


Spock in Wonderland

by VTsuion



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alice in Wonderland fusion, Gen, POV Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-30
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2020-09-28 16:02:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20428637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VTsuion/pseuds/VTsuion
Summary: Spock falls down the rabbit hole into Wonderland, where everything is topsy-turvy and nothing is logical. All he wants to do is find the captain, but everyone around him has other plans.





	1. Down the Rabbit Hole

**Author's Note:**

> Of all the stories I wrote when I first watched Star Trek several years ago, this was probably the most fun to write. It was edited in 2019 for cross-posting.

He walked on through the dark forest.

The ground was covered in a layer of freshly fallen snow, which glowed white, illuminating bare trees in shades of pale grey that shone against the deep, dark blue sky. The forest seemed to go on forever.

The snow crunched beneath his regulation black boots as he wandered on through the night. He was a Vulcan, with sleek dark hair and pointed ears. He wore a blue uniform designating him as a Starfleet officer of medical or scientific duty. He was a Starfleet officer; Commander Spock – he recognized the name and called it his own – the first officer and science officer of the starship _Enterprise_.

Spock forced himself onward, each step more difficult than the last. His heavy legs pounded against the hard ground. Though the air was not cold, the icy light chilled him to the bone - an illogical expression, but he found it oddly accurate. Still he walked onward, wandering through the forest. His eyes scanned the woods in every direction, searching, searching...

There was something missing. There was something he needed to find. If only he knew what it was. Logically-

“Jim!” The name escaped his mouth before it had fully formed in his mind. “Where are you?”

His voice echoed in his ears long after the forest returned to silence. There was no reply.

Where could he be? Why was he not there? Was he in danger-

A glint of golden yellow flashed between two trees ahead.

The captain! Spock threw himself forwards, jogging, running, sprinting, on and on through the endless forest. A flash of gold, a rolling laugh, spurred him forward.

“Come on!” He heard the captain call out to _him_, “We’re late!”

The trees blurred as Spock ran past. His body ached, but he did not- could not stop. Faster, faster, but never closer. Still, he had to go on; he had to find the captain.

The ground vanished beneath his feet. He flailed for purchase as the glow of the snow and the trees and the deep blue sky slipped away until all he could see was darkness surrounding a small circle of light far above him.

“Captain!” He called out to no avail.

He was completely and utterly alone.

He felt himself falling through the air as the circle of light faded away. For he knew not how long, he fell in total darkness with nothing but his own thoughts for company. He had to find the captain; he would find the captain...

And then a soft, yellow light brought the dirt walls of a tunnel into focus. It was just wide enough that if he spread out his arms his fingertips barely brushed the walls. The light gradually got brighter and brighter as Spock fell, and dirt gave way to what appeared to be wallpaper bearing a floral pattern in a style reminiscent of Earth’s past. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed what appeared to be some sort of furniture.

Spock spun himself around in mid air and found himself face to face with what appeared to be a wooden cupboard that would not have been out of place on 19th century Earth, seemingly _nailed_ to the tunnel wall. It was most unusual, but before he could examine it further, he had fallen out of sight.

Where was he, that someone would take the pains to nail antique furniture to the walls of a tunnel? For what purpose? It was a fascinating conundrum, if nothing else.

As he fell he passed tables, several chairs - including one sawed in half - two desks, a bookshelf, more cupboards, shelves of various sizes, and assorted other pieces of furniture, all nailed to the wall.

Finally, he landed with a thud in a pile of sticks and leaves from a variety of trees native to the northern temperate forests of Earth. It was much less painful a landing than he would have expected.

He hoisted himself to his feet and discovered that the pile of sticks was at the end of a long dirt passageway, just tall enough for Spock to stand without bending his neck, and several times more narrow. It was brightly lit, but he could find no source of light. There was no one in sight.

“Captain!” He called out once more, “Jim, are you down here?” Perhaps the captain had fallen as he had.

He waited, listening closely for any echo of the familiar voice. There was nothing.

Suddenly the captain ran past, waving for him to follow with a shout of, “We’re late!”

“Captain! Wait!” Spock called back and scrambled down the passageway after him.

He turned a corner and found himself in a long, low, _empty_ hall, also ornamented in the style of the former British Empire. However, it was lined with sleek grey doors, the likes of which he could have found on the _Enterprise_. A row of what appeared to be gas lamps hung from the ceiling, though there was more light in the room than they alone could have provided.

“Captain! Where are you?” he called out.

The captain could not be far; if he had not beamed up to the ship then he had to be behind one of those doors. Spock waited, letting the seconds draw themselves out into minutes, but there was no reply. If only he could contact the captain. He felt for his communicator, but it was nowhere to be found. His phaser was equally absent.

No matter, he went around the room, meticulously checking each door. He threw his weight against them and tried to pry them open from the edges. He pushed and pulled and tore and shoved, but none of them even budged. If the captain was behind any of them, Spock could only reach him with the absent key, unless someone else decided to open the door from the other side. But there had to be another way.

He scanned the room.

Suddenly he spotted a small three-legged table standing in the middle of the hall that he was quite confident had not been there before. Upon the glass table was a tiny golden key of old Earth design. If only it had been a modern key, maybe he could have used it to open one of the doors that lined the hall, but no. Whoever had placed it there - likely using a form of transporter - Spock had no way to contact them.

There had to be something else then, something he could use. He turned and examined the room once more. There, against the far wall, he spotted a low curtain. He pulled it aside to find an old fashioned door, complete with handle and lock, not 15 inches tall. It was too small for him to fit through, but it was a door he might be able to open.

He retrieved the key from the table and tried to push it into the lock. He turned it this way and that until it finally slid in. He rattled it again until it clicked and he pulled the door open with so much force, he was surprised it didn’t break. He knelt down and peered through the doorway. It opened into a tiny tunnel - several times too small for either he or the captain - that led into what appeared to be a beautiful garden in an old Earth style.

The captain was nowhere in sight.

Still, he shouted into the garden, “Captain Kirk! Jim! Can you hear me?”

Again, there was no reply.

He forced himself to his feet and turned back to the rest of the hall with a sweeping glance. Sure enough, upon the glass table, he spotted a little bottle that, again, he was quite confident had not been there before. He scanned the room for anything else of more obvious utility. But there was nothing.

So he made his way over to the table and examined the little bottle. Around its neck was a paper label that read “DRINK ME” in large calligraphic letters. Spock wafted the contents and the scent of various human dishes, all mixed together in a strange savory-sweet aroma, engulfed him. Fascinating. What the liquid was, he had no idea, but with no alternative present, he picked up the bottle and took a tiny sip. A peculiar sensation ran through his body and almost immediately the room seemed to have grown around him - he had shrunk about an inch.

It was a highly illogical effect; the idea of a liquid, of all things, that when ingested changed a person’s size made little sense considering all his scientific knowledge. Technology for doing anything of the sort was barely in its infancy. Still, there was the fact that he had taken a sip from the bottle and he had shrunk, by however small a margin. It then followed that, if he drank enough of the liquid, he would be able to fit through the door.

He did not know if the captain was on the other side, but the captain was not in the hall, and any possibility was better than none. So the drink it was. He took another sip and again he shrunk slightly. Several approximate calculations later and he came to the conclusion that he would have to drink it all. That he did in a single gulp and just as calculated, he found himself just small enough to go through the door.

He turned around and found the little door closed even though he was confident that he had left it open. And the key, which he was certain he had left in the lock, had vanished. He glanced up and saw the small shape of a key on the now giant table. It could not have moved there on its own. There had to be someone “pulling the strings” – to use the human expression. If so, the captain was in more danger than he had thought.

Spock needed to find him, fast. The door could still be opened. He ran over and pushed and pulled at the miniature door, but to no avail. He tried to force it open, break it down, but it held shut. He ran back to the table and tried to climb up the leg. He made it a few inches up before he could hold on no longer, and slid back down.

He glanced around again, perhaps something else had been transported in that he could use. Lying under the table, he spotted a little glass box. In it was a tiny cake with the words “EAT ME” written on it in what appeared to be currants. He took a bite.

Nothing happened.

He waited, but still it appeared to have no effect. So he tried again and soon enough he had eaten the entire cake, which though very little by his usual standards, was quite a lot for someone of his current size. Still, nothing happened. It should not have been surprising. For the cake to do anything other than supply him with nutrients was utterly illogical-

Suddenly he shot up until he had to double over so his head didn't hit the ceiling. By the time he stopped, he estimated he had grown to over 9 feet tall and expanded proportionally to match. There was no chance he would be able to fit through the little door, or even any of the larger ones, at this height.

“Spock!” the captain’s voice sounded from behind him, “We’re late, let’s go!”

“Captain!” Spock exclaimed as he glimpsed the familiar figure, substantially smaller than he remembered him, racing past, down through the tiny door, and into the garden. “Wait!” Spock called after him, but the captain was out of sight.

Spock now knew the captain was safe, but how long would that last? This time Spock knew where he was, but that did him no good. The door the captain had gone through - the only one Spock knew of that led into the garden - was barely large enough for his arm to fit through at this size. But there had to be another way!

There! He spotted a miniature communicator lying on the ground, beside it was an equally small phaser. He carefully picked them up - they were both dwarfed by his fingers - and opened the communicator.

“Spock to Enterprise! Do you read me?” he called into the device, turning the dial this way and that in search of an open frequency. “Enterprise, come in, this is Spock! The captain-”

He stopped short and dropped the communicator, suddenly its usual size in his hands. It clattered as it hit the ground. The hall was enormous around him – somehow he had shrunk to barely an inch in height – and without eating a single bite.

It was utterly illogical, but that didn’t matter; he had the captain to find. He bent down to pick up the communicator and stowed it away on his belt next to the phaser in case it might be of use later. He took a step towards the table and his feet slid against the suddenly slippery floor. He scrambled to gain traction as he fell forwards into a giant puddle.


	2. A Barrel Will Do

Saline water closed in around him. Spock felt himself sinking, deeper and deeper. He held out his arms and pushed against the fluid. His lungs ached with want for oxygen as his head broke the surface into open air and he took a deep, gasping breath. He paddled relentlessly to keep his head above the water. Finally, he forced his eyes open to find himself in the midst of a blue expanse that stretched out around him in all directions. Land was nowhere in sight.

Where had the hall lined with doors gone? More importantly, where was the captain? Someone must have transported him-

Suddenly Spock heard something splashing in the water a little ways away.

“Jim!” he called out.

His arms and legs slapped the water, propelling him forwards as fast as he could move them. But it wasn’t the captain. He found himself face to face with what appeared to be a creature resembling a giant mouse, about as large - or as small - as he was.

“What did you say?” he heard someone ask, from the mouse’s approximate location.

He quirked an eyebrow in its direction, “You are?”

“A mouse,” the creature appeared to reply as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Apparently it had the facility of speech. “Fascinating,” he said aloud.

“What’s so fascinating?” the mouse demanded.

“In my experience, it is uncommon for rodents to posses the facility of speech,” he explained.

The mouse retorted, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I have never before encountered, or seen a record of a mouse, or another rodent with the ability to communicate in a way that is understandable by humans or Vulcans.” he explained, but there were more important matters that needed to be dealt with. “Do you know our present location?”

“Now you’re trying to change the topic! I don’t believe it, the rudeness of some people!” The mouse turned and began to swim away, mumbling angrily as it went.

Apparently, mice were no more logical than humans, or at least this one was not. But he was stranded in the middle of a strange body of water, he knew not where, likely several times smaller than his usual size, and he did not know where the captain was. It was not a time to be particular about his company, so he swam quickly to catch up with the mouse. His arms and legs ached with exertion, but he ignored them.

“Your behavior is highly illogical,” he reprimanded the mouse as soon as he caught up to it. “I simply wish to know our location.”

“Well you should have thought about that before you were so rude to me!” the mouse exclaimed in a huff, its nose in the air. It paddled away at an accelerated rate.

“Do you at least know how to get to shore?” he called out after it, unable to keep his head above the water and match its pace.

“We’re almost there,” it replied in exasperation. “Can’t you see it?”

The mouse motioned ahead with its nose, and there he saw the outline of a mass of dry land sticking out from the glistening blue waves. To be on solid land again; his muscles cried out for immediate satisfaction, but they would have to wait.

As he had been talking with the mouse - a most unusual phrase - they had been surrounded by what appeared to be several more animals native to Earth. One, that he took for a giant duck, seemed at home in the water, but some of the others - among them a dodo, which he thought had long since gone extinct, an eaglet, and a brightly colored tropical bird - swam awkwardly, obviously adapted to flight instead. He wondered why they were not flying over the water instead of swimming in it.

Somehow, they all made it to the bank and gathered on the strip of sandy beach that separated the water and a deep forest. It was not a place he recognized. His most reasonable hypothesis was that he was on an earth colony, though which he did not know.

The animals were talking among themselves, grumbling about how they were cold and wet - it appeared they all could speak.

“Do you have any ideas?” the eaglet inquired of him.

Spock quirked an eyebrow at it. “We will dry eventually. There are more important matters at hand.”

“You have obviously never tried to fly with wet wings,” the brightly colored bird retorted from a little ways away, stretching each of its dripping wings in turn.

“I have never tried to fly at all,” Spock answered dryly. “Vulcans have a distinct lack of wings.”

“What’s a Vulcan?” the duck asked from behind him.

“I am a Vulcan, we are a humanoid race from the planet of the same name that orbits the star Alnitak,” Spock said.

“Oh, I love a good story!” the eaglet exclaimed enthusiastically.

“It is not a story,” Spock replied - this was becoming ridiculous.

The duck was about to speak when the mouse called out, “Sit down, all of you, and listen to me! _I’ll_ soon make you dry enough!”

The others sat down at once, in a large ring with the mouse in the middle. Spock remained standing.

“What are you waiting for?” the bird that resembled a dodo asked, looking up at him.

“I don’t have time for this,” Spock retorted. “Does anyone know where we are?”

“Ahem!” the mouse interrupted, “If you’re going to be rude, you should just leave. We are attempting to get dry, if that is nonsense to you, than you can just stay wet. Now, are you all ready? This is the driest thing I know. Silence all around if you please.”

Spock turned away as the mouse began to speak in a flat voice. He looked out upon the bar of sand, empty as far as the eye could see. The forest appeared equally barren from where he stood. If he had his tricorder he might have been able to find something, but without it, he could see no other evidence of life. He was stranded upon a beach, his only company an assembly of talking animals, that were several times more interested in drying off than figuring out where they were-

A branch cracked loudly behind him.

“How did I loose them?” It was the captain! “Of all the absent minded-”

“Jim!” Spock called out as he spun around to face the forest.

There he spotted the captain weaving back and forth, his head down as he searched for something in the underbrush. Spock was about to announce that he had found the aforementioned “them,” but his belt was empty.

“Spock, go back and fetch my phaser and communicator,” the captain ordered, before running off into the woods.

“I can’t beam up,” Spock called out, racing after him, but the captain was gone.

“Jim!” Spock shouted to no reply, “Captain Kirk, where are you?”

Green light filtered through the leaves of trees that towered above him. He tromped on through the underbrush, brambles and thickets up to his waist where they were thinnest. The solid trunks of birches and oaks jutted out from the treacherous jungle in gigantic columns of dark brown wood.

The sound of his own footsteps was accompanied by what resembled the songs of birds flying above him and flitting between the trees, but he saw none of them. He saw and heard insects crawling beneath his feet, still several times smaller than himself, but for all intents and purposes, he was alone.

He could no longer hear the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, nor see the blue water or the sandy beach. Civilization was equally absent. His clothes, air dried, were stiff against his damp skin, but the discomfort was easily ignored. There were more pressing matters at hand. He wandered through the endless jungle, searching, searching, for some trace of the captain in this strange land, so much like and unlike Earth.

He pushed aside another branch, pressing against it with nearly his entire weight and finally it gave. He fell forwards, his hands outstretched to catch him before he hit the ground. Instinctively, he rolled and found himself standing on a dirt path in front of a small house in the an old English style, surrounded by a whitewashed picket fence.

Civilization at last. Perhaps someone there would know where he was, maybe they had even seen the captain! He made his way over to the fence and threw open the gate. A quick walk up the cobbled path and he stopped at a wooden door. Upon it was a brass plate with “CPTN. J. T. KIRK” engraved into it. Spock doubted very much that he was in Iowa, but all the same he raised a hand and knocked three times.

There was no answer.

He turned the handle and found it unlocked, so he opened the door and called inside, “Is there anyone here?”

No reply.

He stepped inside and went upstairs. He turned down the hall, into a small room almost identical to the captain’s chambers on the _Enterprise_. The only difference he could see was a window in the far wall. In front of the window was a small low table, on top of which was a communicator and two or three phasers - somehow he couldn’t tell exactly how many there were. His eyes narrowed as he attempted to focus, but the more he tried the harder it became, and his head began to pound. What was going on? There was something amiss, but he needed more data...

He blinked to clear his mind and took them all just in case.

As he turned to leave, he spotted a bottle by the mirror. Upon closer examination, it appeared to be almost identical to the one in the distant hall, hold for the label which was missing entirely. Fascinating. The question was what effect drinking the contents would have. If it made him grow, that might just be useful; to be able to cover larger distances faster and see farther. Perhaps then he would have a chance of finding the captain...

Spock picked up the bottle and took a sip and almost instantly the room seemed to shrink around him so he had to crouch just to fit. He was nearly double his previous size, much too large to fit through the door. A bit stronger of an effect than expected, but not altogether negative. Maybe if he took another sip or two, he would be able to get out through the roof.

He drank again and grew again, larger and larger until he filled the little room. He hastily put down the bottle to keep it from breaking. He tried to move, but all he could do was strain against the walls.

“Spock!” It was the captain, shouting from out front - he would be able to find a way out! “I need my phaser and my communicator! Why are you taking so long? We’re going to be late!”

“I’m stuck, sir,” Spock replied simply.

“Stuck? What do you mean?” the captain asked.

“Come up and you can see for yourself.”

Spock soon heard footsteps on the stairs and felt as the captain tried to open the bedroom door, which was pressed against his elbow and so remained solidly shut.

“I’ll try the window then,” he heard the captain say, apparently more to himself than anyone else.

Once he estimated the captain was within view, Spock forced his arm through the window, the glass shattered around it.

“What’s going on in there?” the captain shouted in surprise.

“I appear to have grown a little,” Spock explained.

“A little?” the captain said with a laugh. He thought for a moment before continuing, “Dr. McCoy might be able to help. Wait here!”

“Captain, I don’t believe I have a choice.”

Spock’s remark was greeted by silence.

After some time, he heard Dr. McCoy speaking from the front of the house. “What happened to Mr. Spock?” he asked incredulously.

There was a pause before the doctor spoke again, this time from below the window, “That’s what you get for having a Vulcan first officer,” Spock heard him mutter, before clearly saying, “A barrel should do.”

“A barrel of what?” Spock asked, when a shower of little pebbles came in through the window - they had somehow managed to get in around his arm. Several hit him in the face.

“And what was that supposed to do?” he said dryly.

He received no answer.

Instead, he heard the captain exclaim, “I have to go! We’re already late!”

“Captain! Wait up!” Spock called out, but there was no reply.

He was about to continue when he noticed the pebbles turning into little cakes. Most illogical, but he picked one up and ate it, all the same. The little cake in the hall had made him larger upon consuming it, hopefully that would enable him to destroy the house and get out that way – he would have to apologize to the Captain for the damages, but there was little else he could do. He supposed they could also make him smaller, or they could, of course, have no effect at all, as cakes usually did, but he concluded that was unlikely.

As soon as he had swallowed one of the miniature cakes, he began to shrink – the problem was solved. Once he was small enough to get through the door, he ran outside, to find that both the captain and Dr. McCoy were nowhere to be seen. Instead he found an assortment of humanoid creatures that resembled a variety of Earth animals, all dressed in a centuries-old style of clothing, gathered in the front yard. They rushed at him as soon as he was out the door, with clear ill intent. He pulled his phaser - making sure it was on stun - and shot as many as he could, but they kept coming.

All he could do was run past the white picket fence and dive into the underbrush.


	3. Advice from a Caterpillar

Spock ran from the peculiar band of humanoid animals, past bushes that looked like trees and tree trunks that seemed to be the size of mountains. The insects creeping across the leaf litter were now almost half his size. How could he find the captain from a mere three inches above the ground? He doubted he could comb the entire forest at his usual height, at this rate he couldn’t even begin to search. He had a communicator, but as the captain apparently lacked one and he was still unable to contact the _Enterprise_, it was as good as useless.

His pace slowed from a sprint, to a run, to a steady jog, to simply walking. There was no point in attempting to get nowhere faster. He needed to know where he was and more importantly how to get out. Maybe a bird could help him - if it was capable of speech and decided not to eat him. The insects appeared generally unhelpful. He had seen no rodents of any sort, though if the mouse he had met earlier was anything to go by, that wouldn’t do him much good either.

He walked and walked and walked, on and on through the strange forest of giant brambles. Suddenly his eyes narrowed; he spotted rings of smoke drifting up above the brambles. Where there was controlled fire, there was most likely sentient life. Sure enough, as he approached he spotted what looked like a caterpillar perched on top of a seemingly giant mushroom. It appeared to be smoking an old Earth water pipe - he believed it was of Middle Eastern origin - utterly lost to the world.

“Do you know where this is?” Spock called out sharply.

There was a long pause as the creature stared at him and he stared back.

Finally, it took the hookah - as Spock believed it was called - from its mouth and addressed him in a sleepy voice, “Who are _you?_” As absent as the creature appeared, it pronounced each word in turn with deliberate precision.

Spock answered in short order, “First Officer Spock of the USS _Enterprise_. I am searching for Captain James T. Kirk - have you seen him? He is a human in a yellow uniform.”

“_I_ have not” the caterpillar replied, again drawing out each word with long pauses between them.

“Do you at the very least know where this is?” Spock repeated his original question.

“_Why?_” It countered. “Who are _you?_” There was a sharp tone of doubt to its slow voice.

Spock quirked an eyebrow at the creature. “As I said, I am the first officer of the Starship _Enterprise_-”

“What is _that_?” The caterpillar seemed even more doubtful at his explanation.

“A Constitution class Federation starship. Will you answer my question or not?” Spock attempted to drag the conversation back to the matter at hand.

“_Your_ question? Why?”

This was utterly illogical, but he had found no one else. As unfortunate as it was, this caterpillar was his best chance to find the captain… “So that I can find Captain Kirk and return with him to the _Enterprise_,” he explained deliberately.

“_Why?_”

“It is my duty to defend the captain. If you do not know where this is, do you at the very least know how I could grow any larger?”

“Why?” it asked again, more pointedly, drawing itself up to its full height. “What’s wrong with being three inches tall?” It spoke a little faster now.

“This height is not optimal for searching for the captain,” Spock explained with some impatience. “If I were taller, I would be able to cover more ground and see farther.”

There was a pause as it took a long drag from the hookah, before finally replying, “You’ll get used to it in time.”

“I have wasted enough time!” Spock declared.

There was another long silence as the caterpillar put the pipe back in its mouth and resumed smoking.

Spock considered turning to leave; the creature had been of absolutely no use and who knew what trouble the captain had gotten into in while Spock was lost in the forest - he just hoped Jim wasn’t in danger. But spending even more time wandering around aimlessly through the forest would not help him find the captain, especially not at this height. If he knew where anyone else was, he might be able to-

“Keep your temper…” the caterpillar finally said, drawing out each word.

“There is no need to insult me,” Spock replied.

“Insult _you?_ Who are _you?_”

Not this again! Dr. McCoy would be more helpful than this caterpillar! Spock turned and started back into the underbrush, ready to face whatever else he found-

“One side will make you grow taller, and the other side will make you grow shorter...” the caterpillar called after him.

What was it talking about? One side and the other side of what? The creature was clearly intoxicated by whatever it was smoking-

“Of the mushroom...” the caterpillar explained, as though in answer to Spock’s unspoken question.

Spock turned to see the end of its tail disappearing into the tall grass. If the caterpillar was right, he might just be able to find the captain! He hurried back to the mushroom the caterpillar had occupied.

Supposedly one side would make him grow taller and the other would make him grow shorter. The only question that remained was which side was which. He slowly walked around the edge of the mushroom, searching for some marker that signified the two distinct sides, but it appeared to be identical all the way around.

He raised his eyebrows at it in skepticism. Was he really about to trust that caterpillar? But this might be his only chance to get out of the forest and find the captain. At least the unpleasant creature had departed. He broke off two pieces from opposite sides of the mushroom and took a bite of one. Almost instantly he found himself shrinking and shrinking, until the pieces of mushroom were almost as large as himself. He dropped the one that made him smaller and took a bite from the other.

His body suddenly stopped shrinking and instead stretched upwards, past the underbrush and tall tree trunks, up through the canopy until he was looking down upon a sea of leaves. The bright blue sky was all that remained above him. His shoulders had vanished far beneath him, but his neck moved easily, several times more flexible than he remembered it.

But it did not help him find the captain. He looked this way and that, but all he could see were the tops of trees extended out to the horizon. He had gone directly from too short to too tall, without stopping in between-

“Serpent!” something screamed, not far from his head.

He maneuvered himself so he could see the small organism, resembling a pigeon, and quirked an eyebrow at it.

“Serpent, I say again!” it repeated, a bit more subdued. “I’ve tried every way, and nothing seems to suit them! I’ve tried the roots of trees, and I’ve tried banks, and I’ve tried hedges, but those serpents! There’s no pleasing them!”

It seemed that this would go no better than his encounter with the caterpillar, but then again, the caterpillar had enabled him to find the means to change his size at will - as soon as he got the proportions right - so perhaps this would be similarly helpful.

“You have me mistaken,” he said simply. “I am no serpent-”

“Well, what are you then?” the bird screeched.

“I am Commander Spock, First Officer of the USS _Enterprise_,” he explained once more.

“Likely story, just spouting nonsense! You’re a serpent after my poor eggs!”

“This is utterly illogical, I am a Vulcan, not a serpent.” He was sounding like Dr. McCoy - not a good thing.

“Next you’ll be telling me you don’t eat eggs!”

“I do not.” This was getting nowhere…

“Classic serpent!” Its voice rose to a high shriek that rang in his ears, “Dirty liars, the lot of you! You’re after my eggs and I know it!” it screeched and flew off in a huff.

So much for gathering further information. Spock somehow managed to lift the right piece of mushroom above the treetops, to his mouth and made his way back to his usual size bite by bite.


	4. Pig and Pepper

Spock looked down on the forest, as though from the vantage point of a giant. The underbrush that had towered above him now crunched beneath his tremendous feet. What had seemed like skyscrapers, or even mountains, were now mere tree trunks. He slowly made his way through the woods, careful not to step on anyone that might be underfoot.

"Captain Kirk! Jim!" he called out as he walked, listening carefully between shouts for a reply.

None came.

Just because he was taller did not mean he would be able to find the captain. He needed to know where he was-

Suddenly he glimpsed a little house, about four feet high, again in an old English style, sitting in the middle of a small clearing in the woods. Maybe whoever lived there would have some sort of answer for him. He nibbled on the mushroom until he was of the right size, before making his way to the door.

As he approached, he could hear a horrible racket coming from inside; howling, sneezing, and ever so often a loud crash of something fragile being shattered to pieces. He was about to knock on the door when a security officer, in a standard issue red Starfleet uniform, but whose head resembled that of a fish, ran out of the woods and up to the door. Spock barely had time to step aside.

The officer rapped at the door and it was immediately opened by another security officer, this one with the head of a frog. Despite their cold-blooded appearances, they both had curly white hair - Spock suspected they were wearing old-fashioned powdered wigs.

The officer with the head of a fish produced a gigantic paper envelope from under his arm and handed it over to the officer with the head of a frog, declaring, "For the Duchess. An invitation from the Wizard to play chess."

The frog repeated with a similarly formal cadence, "From the Wizard. An invitation for the Duchess to play chess."

When it appeared they both had nothing more to say, they bowed low to one another. Their hair got tangled together as their heads met in the middle.

Spock watched them struggle to untangle themselves with a raised eyebrow. He had seen many unusual sights in his time as a Starfleet officer, but this was one of the more unusual.

The two officers finally managed to separate themselves from one another and the frog ran off. All of his energy seemingly gone, the fish-headed officer sat down on the ground by the door and stared up at the sky, seemingly lost to the world.

"Do you know where this is?" Spock asked sharply.

"Do I?" the security officer replied dreamily, not looking down.

Spock waited, but the officer made no move to continue.

Clearly, he was going to be of no use, dressed as a security officer or otherwise. Spock returned his attention to the door and raised a hand-

"There's no sort of use in knocking," the officer said, in the same distant tone, "and that is for two reasons. First, because I'm on the same side of the door as you are: secondly because they're making such a noise inside, no one could possibly hear you-"

"How else do you suggest I enter?" Spock retorted.

“There might be some sense in knocking if we had the door between us,” the officer rambled on without paying Spock any heed. “For instance, if you were inside, you might knock and I could let you out, you know.”

"Who is inside?" Spock demanded.

Again, he went ignored. “I shall sit here till tomorrow-” the officer remarked.

Suddenly, the door to the house swung open and a large porcelain plate came flying out, aimed straight at the officer’s head. Spock shoved him out of the way and it crashed against one of the trees behind them.

The officer continued as though nothing had happened, “-or the next day, maybe.”

Spock had never been anywhere where the people were so unhelpful, "Do you know where this is?"

“Anywhere you like,” the officer replied dreamily.

Never mind. This was getting absolutely nowhere. He walked back up to the door and raised a hand to knock-

"There's no sort of use-"

"Yes," Spock interrupted, "You mentioned that. How else do you suggest I get inside?"

" _ Are _ you to get in at all? That's the first question, you know."

It was an illogical question. He would get inside by whatever means he needed to, if it meant he might be able to find the captain. Getting in the easy way was preferable, but if the fish-headed officer was not going to help him, then he would find an alternative-

"I shall sit here on and off, for days and days." the officer remarked again.

He would clearly be of no use. Spock returned to the door and rammed himself against it. It did not budge. He stepped back and gave it a kick, but all he got was a sharp pain in his foot. Perhaps... He tried at the brass doorknob, pushing and tugging as he turned it this way and that until finally the door swung open.

He stepped inside, into a large stone kitchen. The hot, heavy air was full of peppery smoke emanating from a large fireplace. Lieutenant Uhura sat upon a three-legged stool in the middle of the room. She wore a long red dress with ruffles and frills, out of Europe's 19th century. In her arms was a baby that sneezed and howled without pause. Ever so often, she let out a sneeze herself. Nurse Chapel knelt in front of the fire in a simple blue dress, tending a large cauldron full of a soupy liquid. The nurse and what appeared to be a large grinning feline curled up on the hearth were the only ones immune to the pepper.

"Mr. Spock," Lieutenant Uhura exclaimed between sneezes, "What are you doing here?"

"Spock?" Nurse Chapel glanced up in nervous surprise, "I wasn't expecting you! What brings you here?"

He quirked an eyebrow at them. "I was about to ask both of you the same question. Why are you down here and not up on the ship?"

"Well," Lieutenant Uhura replied, taken aback, "I'm - Achoo! - the Duchess and Christine is my cook-"

This was utterly illogical, Lieutenant Uhura was no Duchess, and Nurse Chapel was a nurse, not a cook. "What are you talking about?" he demanded.

Nurse Chapel stood. "Spock, are you okay?" She placed a hand on his arm.

"Your concern is unnecessary." He pushed away her hand. "Have either of you seen the captain?"

Lieutenant Uhura shook her head, "I've been here the whole time." she punctuated the statement with a sneeze.

"I haven't seen him either. But I can help you look, if you like..." the nurse offered.

That was unfortunate. "Do either of you know where this is?" Spock asked.

"Mr. Spock," Lieutenant Uhura sneezed, "Christine might be right, you do seem a bit off."

What was going on? There was something affecting the others, some madness that perhaps all the residents of this peculiar place had fallen victim to. But Spock was no doctor and even if he was, he had no time to worry about some strange illness of the mind; he needed to find the captain before he fell victim to it as well - if it wasn’t already too late. Perhaps Spock was only immune because of his Vulcan heritage.

"Have you been able to contact the Enterprise?" he demanded with increased urgency.

They both shook their heads.

Nurse Chapel took him by the arm. "Come on, maybe you just need some fresh air, it is really stuffy in here-"

Did they not understand? The captain was missing and Spock didn't have any idea as to where either of them was! The captain could be in danger, or worse.

"Do either of you know where the captain could be, if you know the area so well?" Spock attempted once more, not budging an inch.

"Come on, let's step outside, the air may do you some good…" Nurse Chapel tried again, tugging at his arm.

What was she thinking? He tore his arm out of her grasp, turned and left. He stepped outside and took in a deep breath. It came out in a thunderous cough that made him double over, heaving. He coughed until his throat was sore and he could cough no more. Then he sat down upon the steps and breathed in and out. The air was so cool and fresh…

Eventually he stood once more and returned to the forest, taking a bite of the mushroom to return himself to his normal height as he went.


	5. A Mad Tea Party

Spock wandered through the woods once more. A green light filtered down through the canopy above as he made his way he knew not where, in search of his lost captain. He had come upon nothing but dead ends. He would have expected officers of the  _ Enterprise _ \- senior officers, nonetheless - to be more helpful, but they could not help that they had fallen under some strange influence. He just needed to keep searching...

He could not stop, he just had to keep going, he could not stop- his steady stride turned into a jog, and a run, and a sprint, as his legs flew below him and the forest raced past. He just needed to keep going. He would find the captain. He just needed to keep searching, searching, searching, searching… His breath came fast but he could not stop-

On the branch of a distant tree he spotted the smiling cat from the Lieutenant's kitchen. Unfortunately, he could not ask a cat for directions- But what was stranger about asking a cat than a caterpillar? All the animals he had encountered so far here had been able to talk, just because this one had remained quiet in the kitchen did not mean it was an exception.

Spock stopped short just below the branch on which it was perched. "Have you seen a man in a yellow uniform?"

"Maybe I have, or maybe I haven't," the cat replied. Its grin stretched even wider.

This was ridiculous. "Have you or have you not?"

"Have you?" it countered.

Perhaps another route of inquiry would be more effective. "Do you know where this is?"

"This?” the cat asked. “The middle of the woods, if I say so myself."

“And what is around these woods?” Spock attempted.

"That depends a good deal on where you want to get to," it replied, as if to a different question.

"What are some possible destinations?" he tried again.

"In that direction" - the cat waved its right paw to the left - "lives a Hatter: and in that direction" - it waved its left paw to the right - "Lives a March Hare. Visit either you like: they're both mad."

"Then they won't be of much use, will they?" Sock asked rhetorically.

"Oh, you can't help being among mad people, we're all mad here. I'm mad. You're mad."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the cat. "I would say that is a highly logical self-assessment, but I do not see how you came to the conclusion that I am mad."

"You must be, or you wouldn't have come here," the cat said.

" _ I _ had no choice in the matter," Spock retorted.

"Do you play chess with the Wizard today?" the cat asked abruptly.

What did that have to do with anything? "Wizards are merely Earth legends," Spock replied.

"You'll see me there," the cat said, apparently ignoring his remark, before it vanished into thin air.

Someone had transported it somewhere, the question was where and more importantly, who?

"By-the-by, what became of the baby?" the cat asked as it reappeared. "I'd nearly forgotten to ask."

The baby? What baby? There was a more important question he now had the opportunity to ask - "Where were you transported to?"

"What became of the baby?" it asked again.

Baby? Was it asking about the child Lieutenant Uhura had been holding? "I do not know. Who transported you? Where did it send you?"

The cat simply grinned even wider and vanished once more.

He would find the transporter another way. For now, he had a hatter and a hare to visit. He would attempt to find the hatter first. There was a chance he had gone “mad,” poisoned by the mercury from his hats - if he recalled correctly, that had been the origin of the expression "as mad as a hatter" - but Spock would probably have better luck with him than a rabbit. He headed off along the path the cat had directed him to.

Spock did not have to walk far before he found a small house nestled in the woods. It had two chimneys, resembling the ears of a rabbit, and its roof appeared to be thatched with fur. He suspected this was the home of the March Hare – the cat seemed to have reversed the directions, Spock suspected on purpose. But while he was there he might as well pay the hare a visit. He nibbled on the mushroom until he was about two feet tall before making his way over.

Under a tree in front of the house was a table set for a proper English tea, with more settings than there were people to fill them. At the far end of the table was what must have been the March Hare himself - by all appearances a rabbit, dressed in period attire. It was resting its elbow on the head of a large mouse sitting in the chair next to it, fast asleep, and on the other side of the mouse, also using it as an arm-rest was a man of the same size as the rabbit, with reddish-blond hair, in a blue-green overcoat, with a large bow-tie around his neck. Perched upon his head was a black top hat with a card in it bearing the inscription "10/6" in large, stylized black print. The man and the rabbit appeared to be in the midst of an avid conversation.

"No room! No room!" they called out as soon as they saw Spock coming.

Spock quirked an eyebrow at them. "That's highly illogical, there is plenty of room."

"Have some wine," the rabbit said as Spock stopped at the far side of the table.

"I am a Vulcan and therefore do not experience the effects of alcohol," Spock replied.

"There isn't any," the rabbit declared, as if he had made some great blow.

"Then it was highly illogical for you to offer it in the first place," Spock said.

"It wasn't very civil of  _ you _ to sit down without being invited," the rabbit retorted.

Perhaps the grinning cat had been right, the hare, at least, was mad. "I am not sitting and even if I was, I would not be depriving you of a seat, unless you are expecting more company."

"Your hair wants cutting," the man in the hat remarked, out of nowhere. This was the first word he said, though he had been watching Spock curiously for some time.

What did that have to do with anything? No matter, he had more important things to attend to. "Have either of you seen a man in a yellow uniform?"

The man's eyes widened as Spock spoke and for a moment it seemed as if he might give an intelligent answer, but all he said was, "Why is a raven like a writing-desk?

"If the desk is made of wood, then they are both made up of cells, composed of organic compounds," he replied almost reflexively, but it was still more nonsense.

"Do you mean that you think you can find out the answer to it?" the rabbit asked.

"That is my answer, though I do not know why one would wish to compare the two, or what that has to do with anything," Spock replied.

"Then you should say what you mean," it continued, apparently unaware of what Spock was saying.

Still, he supposed he might as well try again. "Do either of you know where this is, at the very least?"

"Why, this is Wonderland, my dear," the man said. A wild grin crossed his face for an instant. And then it was gone, replaced by an expression of simple impatience and a tone to match, "Not the same thing a bit! Why, you might just as well say that 'I see what I eat' is the same thing as 'I eat what I see'!"

What was going on? He had thought they were both entirely detached from reality, but the man – the hatter – seemed to have some awareness. It was almost as if he were acting and had broken part for an instant. Perhaps he was "mad" in a completely different way. And if he knew where this was, perhaps he knew where the captain was!

The rabbit was saying, "... is the same thing as-"

"Do you know where the captain is?" Spock interrupted, turning on the man - the rabbit would be of no use to him.

"- 'I get what I like'!" the rabbit carried on, as if nothing had happened.

The man met his eyes once more, that strange glint returned, though the smile did not, but he did not say a word and soon looked away.

"You might just as well say," the mouse added, seemingly talking in its sleep, "That 'I breathe when I sleep' is the same thing as 'I sleep when I breathe'!"

"It  _ is _ the same thing with you," the man finally spoke once more, but it was nothing of use.

This again was pointless, utterly pointless. Whatever the man seemed to know, he was not about to tell Spock anything. He would have better luck if he returned to the forest, perhaps he would find the cat and try his luck with it. With that he stood as the others sat in silence - the man's comment had stopped the conversation short - and walked away.

"What day of the month is it?" the man called after him.

Spock turned to face him. "On which calendar?" Maybe, just like with the caterpillar, he would gain something of use, maybe all the madness would amount to something.

"Two days wrong!" the man exclaimed, "I told you butter wouldn't suit the works!"

Never mind. Spock turned back towards the woods and left at a steady pace as the strange party carried on without him.


	6. Chess with the Wizard

Spock had barely returned to the woods when he spotted what appeared to be a door built into the trunk of a particularly large tree - most unusual. He pulled at the doorknob and to his surprise, it swung open.

He found himself back inside the same long hall he had found at the end of the rabbit hole so long ago, lined with modern sliding doors that would not budge. Not again! When he glanced back over his shoulder, the door in the tree that had taken him there was nowhere to be seen, as though he had been teleported. He would have to go through that all again- but this time he had the mushroom!

He grabbed the little golden key from the glass table in the middle of the hall and reopened the little old fashioned door on the far side of the room. He nibbled on the mushroom until he was just the right size and walked down the little passageway, out into the beautiful garden he had seen through the keyhole.

The captain was nowhere in sight, but he quickly spotted a trio of officers in beige Starfleet uniforms who Spock vaguely recognized, though he could not identify them. More unusual, they had little black shovels hanging from their belts where phasers and communicators should have been, and the Starfleet insignia on their chests had been replaced by varying numbers of spades, like on the playing cards. The officers were crowded around a rosebush, painting the white flowers with bright red paint. An unusual pastime, but maybe they knew where the captain was!

"Look out now, Five! Don't go splashing paint over me like that!" One of them - with two spades on his chest - exclaimed as Spock approached.

"I couldn't help it," another - presumably the aforementioned 'Five,' as indicated by the five spades on his chest - replied. "Seven jogged my elbow."

The other - presumably ‘Seven,’ with the same number of spades - looked up and retorted, "That's right, Five! Always lay the blame on others!"

Spock was sure the argument was highly productive, but he had the captain to find. "Have any of you seen Captain James T. Kirk of the starship _ Enterprise _?"

They all turned to see Spock standing behind them.

The one with two spades exclaimed, "The King wants to see you!"

"The King-" Spock began - first a wizard now a king?

"The Wizard! The Wizard!" They all interrupted, throwing themselves onto their faces as though in reverence before a powerful ruler or deity.

Spock heard the sound of many uniform footsteps, as if in a military parade, slowly approaching from behind. He turned to see humans in red Starfleet uniforms marching by in two columns, in strict formation. Each officer carried a stout black club - a brutish weapon with three round heads branching off in different directions - and in place of the Starfleet insignia on their chests were little black clubs, resembling the playing card suit, of course. The first officer had just one large club on his chest, the officer beside him bore two smaller ones, after them came three and four, and so on, all the way up to ten.

After them came two columns of officers in science blue with large red diamonds hanging from their belts where phasers should have been, and on their chests were little red diamonds, again from one to ten. Then, to Spock’s surprise, were what appeared to be ten little children skipping in pairs, hand in hand. They were adorned with an ascending number of hearts. Next came two columns of command officers in yellow. Instead of their Starfleet insignias, they all had the symbols of different suits emblazoned on their chests; three wore spades, three wore clubs and three wore diamonds.

They were followed by Lieutenant Scott bearing a crown with a ruby heart in the top, resting upon a velvet cushion. And finally, was what had to be the Wizard and the King – Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk. Dr. McCoy wore a long red cloak and tall pointed hat, both covered in red hearts of different sizes, and in his hand was a long staff. The captain was dressed even more fantastically, in red ermine robes, also decorated with hearts. He carried a scepter with a giant ruby heart set in the top.

"What's he doing here?" Dr. McCoy demanded of Lieutenant Scott, though his eyes were fixed on Spock as he came to a stop in front of him. The unusual procession stopped ahead of the doctor.

Lieutenant Scott merely smiled and shook his head.

Spock tried to catch the captain’s eye, but he appeared to be too busy giving orders to the other officers to take any notice.

The doctor gave the Lieutenant a dirty look and returned his gaze to Spock. "What are you doing here?" He demanded.

"I've been searching for the captain," Spock replied.

"And what are _ they _ doing?" Dr. McCoy narrowed his eyes at him.

"Why not ask them directly?" Spock countered, "I have not been briefed on their duties. Your behavior is most illogical."

"Why you- Off with his head! Off-" McCoy shouted suddenly, shaking with fury.

"Bones," the captain interrupted with a good-natured smile, "Whatever it is that Spock did, you can't have him executed."

The doctor looked away in frustration and turned to the men in beige uniforms on the ground before him. "Get up!" He ordered in a loud, surprisingly shrill voice.

The officers leapt to their feet and started bowing to everyone in sight.

"Stop that!" The doctor screamed. "What have you been doing here?"

"Sir," Two said, from down on one knee, "We were trying-"

Dr. McCoy, who had been examining the roses, cut him off, "I see! Off with their heads!"

With that bloody proclamation, the procession moved on. Spock followed. He made his way over to the captain, who was busy talking to three security officers that stayed behind to deal with the three officers in beige.

"Captain!" Spock called out as he maneuvered to his side. "You won't have them killed, will you? That would be completely and utterly illogical."

"Of course not," the captain replied with a grin, "But the Wizard doesn't need to know that."

At least the captain had kept his sanity, but "The Wizard?" Spock asked with an eyebrow raised - Dr. McCoy was no wizard.

"Are their heads off?" Dr. McCoy yelled out, before the captain could reply.

"Their heads are gone, if it pleases you," the security officers shouted back.

"That's right!" He exclaimed with a smile, before shouting, "Can you play chess?"

There was no reply.

Spock abruptly realized that all eyes were on him, waiting for an answer. "Of course," he said.

"Come on, then!" Dr. McCoy roared and the procession continued on at an even faster pace.

Spock turned to the captain and asked quietly, "What is happening here?"

The captain simply shook his head. He wore that mischievous smile of his that said there would likely be danger, but as always, he had a plan. The procession soon came upon a large three-tiered structure, tiled in alternating black and white squares; a giant chess board.

"Get to your places!" Dr. McCoy roared, his voice like thunder.

Everyone ran off in all directions. Somehow, they all managed to assemble on the board in starting positions. Spock found the captain in the white king's place while Dr. McCoy took the position of a bishop. The other officers filled in the gaps: Lieutenant Scott was a castle, Lieutenant Sulu and Ensign Checkov were knights and Lieutenant Uhura was the other bishop. A row of security officers took the places of the pawns.

On the other side of the board there was a diminutive little king and a large boisterous queen. A white rabbit dressed in frills and a little girl in a blue dress took the place of bishops, the hatter and the hare were knights, and the caterpillar with the hookah and the grinning cat were the castles. The pawns were assorted playing cards with human heads, arms, and legs.

"Captain, where do I go?" Spock asked, expecting orders.

"You're the knight of course," the captain replied with a grin.

Suddenly Spock's usual uniform was replaced by a suit of golden-white plate armor, the likes of which he had seen only in descriptions of knights from Europe's middle ages, though the helmet was missing. But he found himself in the queen's position. Before he could correct anyone, however, the game began.

"Charge!" The captain and the other side's queen shouted at once.

The pawns rushed from their starting positions. The board was soon full of yelling, the clank of metal and the blasts of phasers. The captain called out orders while the other queen exclaimed, "Off with his head!" or "Off with her head!" at everyone who would listen. A battle raged around them, but Spock stood firmly by the captain. He had taken a sword from its sheath in his belt and held it out, just in case.

Suddenly Spock noticed a familiar grin hovering in the air before him. Slowly the cat materialized around it.

"How are you getting on?" It asked.

"I would appreciate it if everything made a little more sense," Spock retorted.

"Sense, or nonsense, they're all the same, really," the cat replied.

"No they're not," Spock answered with a solid swing of his sword. "That is highly illogical."

The cat vanished and he found himself standing in front of the captain. The war raged around them, but the captain was unthreatened - for now.

Suddenly the hatter appeared in front of him. Spock remembered his strange, mad smile and tightened his guard. He had to protect the captain no matter the cost.

"Curiouser and curiouser," the hatter remarked as if he expected Spock to know what he meant. "This isn't how it's supposed to go, you know. You've messed up my dream, it's very impertinent of you."

"Your dream? What do you mean?" Spock demanded, this man knew more than he was letting on - was he behind everything? "What's going on?"

The man laughed. "You can't tell me you've never heard of Alice in Wonderland..."

Spock quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I much prefer croquet, but if it's chess you want, then checkmate," the man replied with a huff.

"Checkmate? No!" Spock exclaimed as he spun around and saw the captain fall.

He turned back and drove his sword into the strange man.

Everything froze around him and faded until they were surrounded by nothing more than empty darkness. His sword remained out as though caught in the hatter's chest. The man slowly faded away, his tall hat lingered behind him for a moment, and then Spock was alone, his sword shoved into nothingness, but he could not move.

* * *

"Spock!" the captain's familiar voice called to him, "Spock, are you okay?"

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He forced his eyes open and found Jim bent over him, his face twisted with concern. And over the captain’s shoulder he could just make out a dark figure, almost like the silhouette of an overgrown bat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, everyone who has stuck with me through this adventure in Wonderland! I hope you've had as much fun as I did writing it, or at least as much as I had revisiting it in my attempt to make it more presentable for cross-posting.
> 
> I'm sorry for the surprise additional crossover. The Batman villain, the Mad Hatter is the only one who could be responsible for giving Spock such a dream, and I did my best to depict Spock's subconscious fighting against the imposed setting, at times doing better than others. (My depiction of the Mad Hatter is mostly based on Batman: The Animated Series.)  
I hope it was an enjoyable read whether you're familiar with Batman or not.


End file.
